


je suis aveugle à tout (sauf à toi)

by aimerai



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Miscommunicating Within A Relationship, References to Ottawa Being A Tire Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 00:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16733847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimerai/pseuds/aimerai
Summary: “Are we exes?” Luc asks, blinking. He’s wearing an undershirt and compression shorts and looks far too vulnerable compared to Thomas’s suit.Thomas is going to puke. “No?” he says, but it sounds like it’s been punched out of him, filled with too much air. He knew this might happen, and it hurts anyway.





	je suis aveugle à tout (sauf à toi)

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to the folks that helped this happen, you know who you are <3  
> title from patrice michaud's cherry blossom, translating to 'i'm blind to everything (except for you)'  
> before you read this, please watch [this](http://canadarussielch.ca/video/dubois-en-entrevue-avec-ses-coequipiers)  
> where sammy girard could not be more obviously third-wheeling.  
> originally this was kinda a reaction fic to That Video of the sens, which was released the same week as "can lulu paint my nails?"

Thomas knows the Jackets arena well enough to know where he’s supposed to be, but he doesn’t know if Luc will be there, because Thomas has been a little bit shitty and self-involved, the past few weeks. Maybe more than a little. He knows he hurt Luc, but he doesn’t know how badly, yet. Luc is sensitive, even if he tries to hide it, and Thomas knows that he matters to Luc. Luc picks up on nuance quick, so even though they didn’t stop talking, they stopped talking in the ways that mattered, a little bit. It’s not really Thomas’s brightest moment, but first he’d been terrified, and then he didn’t think he could apologise properly over the phone. He doesn't want to foist his terror onto Luc.

He’s relieved when he turns the corner and Luc is waiting there, looking large and beautiful, like always, lets his feet carry him until he’s standing in the outside layer of Luc’s personal bubble.

“Are we exes?” Luc asks, blinking. He’s wearing an undershirt and compression shorts and looks far too vulnerable compared to Thomas’s suit.

Thomas is going to puke. “No?” he says, but it sounds like it’s been punched out of him, filled with too much air. He knew this might happen, and it hurts anyway.

Luc tilts his head and remains, as always, a sight for sore eyes. “Okay, good. I wasn’t sure,” he says. He feels entirely too calm, and Thomas is freaking out, and still not entirely sure that he isn’t going to throw up. As if Thomas would ever be the one breaking up with Luc. Luc paints nails and babysits and is earnest and charming, everyone wrapped around his finger. Thomas had to issue a public apology for bad-mouthing his coaching staff; the only thing he has going for him are his point totals.

“Why did you think we were?” Thomas asks, because he has to start fixing things somewhere.

“You stopped talking,” Luc says, and his already soft voice is even softer. “I didn’t think you’d be like that.”

Thomas winces.

They have—had—a promise. The only time Luc broke it, he’d been traded to the Armada, in a thing they’d seen coming and yet hadn’t expected, and, well. Luc’s never done well with not being able to meet people's expectations. Luc was fiery back then, ready to throw down with everyone, teetering on the line of suspension. Thomas was going to go play for the Memorial Cup, and he couldn’t even be happy about it, watching Luc be so miserable and pent up and quiet through all of playoffs, trying his best but it not being fucking enough, hard to reconcile with the boy whose coaches used to make him cry. Luc wouldn’t talk to him, but Thomas doesn’t blame him, forgave him easily when he showed up at Thomas’s door after it was all over and done, looking small and sad. How could he not? He would’ve done the same if their positions were reversed.  

But this is different. This is a year and a half after that, through the I-love-yous and the distance, through Thomas being sent down and up and down and up until they finally let him stay, through the raging tire fire that the Sens are still desperately trying to pretend they aren’t, through the Jackets’ unceremonious playoffs exit, through the beginning of this season and the sheer uncertainty of everything.

“I got myself into trouble,” Thomas says softly, shrugging it off. It’s not his fault completely, he didn’t say anything nearly as incriminating, but it still sucks, and sucks hard. He thought he was safe, and then he was worried, about what else they might find out. He can’t let them touch Luc. He'll never forgive himself, if he lets them touch Luc.

Luc’s eyes soften. “It’s not your fault.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Thomas sighs, wanting nothing more than to rest his head on Luc’s shoulder. He can believe it if Luc says it; Luc can be his absolution. He’s still kind of a fuckup, but it’s hard to feel like one when Luc is Luc. And when it comes back down to it, it’s not really about the video, but it’s about Luc, and not talking, and being an idiot for what seemed like the right reasons.

Luc looks almost like he’s going to laugh, lets out a huff that is pretty much a snicker. “That was just bad luck, and you let yourself carry it for weeks? You idiot. You’re one of the best offensive d-men in the league; they can’t fucking touch you.”

“And you?” Thomas asks, because he thinks he’s been forgiven, somewhere, somehow. He doesn’t deserve it, but he has it anyway.

Luc grins, leans closer, hooks his fingers in Thomas’s belt loops. “I can always touch you,” he says, cocking his head. “Right?”

He’s not wrong, but still manages to look unsure about it. Thomas loves him an uncomfortable amount, all these sticky feelings resting in his chest, too hard to pry out and quantify.

“You know the answer to that,” Thomas says, tilting his own head, swaying slightly closer, drawn in like always.

Luc’s eyelashes flutter, which Thomas, just for the record, considers massively unfair. “You haven’t kissed me yet; I don’t know anything.” He’s almost pouting.

“You asked me if we were exes,” Thomas says, and it still hurts, but he thinks that they’ll be able to laugh about it soon. He still can’t imagine a world where he’s the one breaking up with Luc.

Luc pulls on Thomas’s belt loops, Thomas stumbles into him, cause and effect, and Luc looks nothing but delighted. They’re pressed together, chest to chest. Anyone could come by and see them, but he doesn’t care right now, because Luc has him, and that’s what’s really important, here.

“You scared me,” Luc says, in a heartbreaking tone, and his eyes look just a little too shiny, in the moment before he kisses Thomas.

Thomas kisses back, of course he kisses back. He’s only human; they haven’t seen each other in a while, and video is no substitute for the real thing. Tries to apologise through touch. He doesn’t think he can actually pull Luc any closer but he tries, rests a hand on the side of Luc’s neck, can practically feel Luc’s racing pulse.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, almost into Luc’s mouth, the moment they break apart. “I was just being a fuckup.”

Luc kisses him again, gentle, like he’s something to cherish. “You were talking without saying anything. Next time, just tell me that you don’t want to talk about it.”

Thomas doesn’t think he can explain it properly, but he tries, shifting his hand to cradle Luc’s jaw, rough against his skin. “But you’re perfect, and I don’t want to…” He can’t say it, that it’s Luc he’s really scared for.

Luc pulls away, and Thomas is afraid again even though he knows better. Luc is frowning in confusion. “I’m perfect? You’re joking, right?”

Thomas shakes his head, tries to explain it, but that’s part of Luc’s charm, that he doesn’t understand just how fucking charming he is. “You don’t—Luc, you’re so, so easy to love.”

Luc’s blushing, which is fascinating every time it happens, but he’s holding onto Thomas too tight, like he’s afraid he’ll disappear. “So are you,” he says, disarmingly simple. “You’re allowed to be human; I’m not going to leave you for that, not after you lived through all my sulking. I’m not perfect, but you love me. You’re not perfect, but I love you. Isn’t that—isn’t that how a relationship works?”

And that’s true, too. They’ve chosen each other through the good and the bad. Even when they were talking without really talking, Thomas said ‘I love you’ every night and meant it.

“Yeah, okay,” he murmurs, because it’s a little too much to have all of Luc’s earnest attention, even now, after all these years. Nothing makes him feel as warm as the knowledge that Luc picked him.

Luc smiles like he’s won, and kisses Thomas’s cheek. “Thank you. Now stop being dumb and tell me how you’ve really been, you martyr.”

Thomas bites his lip, and tries not to drag his team’s dirty laundry into his relationship. It’s not his strong point, but Luc deserves better. “I think we should go somewhere warm and sunny for your birthday. Maybe the Caribbean.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Luc says, but he looks pleased anyway.

Thomas is not a liar; he just tends to not tell the full truth, but he’ll make an exception. “I missed you a lot. I was thinking of what would be nice, for both of us.” To make it up to you, he doesn’t say, but he thinks Luc knows anyway. They’re good at reading each other.

Luc’s face is too much to look at, but he's still expecting more, which is valid even though Thomas doesn't want it to be. “Did you know that if you start Googling the team, the first search term is Uber?”

Luc rolls his eyes. “I'm pretty sure that counts as Googling yourself, which you're not supposed to do, especially not after shit like that.”

They all ignore it anyway. Thomas has yet to meet a hockey player unaware of what people think about them. People like being heard, and fans are emphatic about it. “I'm half-expecting Dutchy to request a trade,” Thomas says, because it's what's funny in what’s true. It’s a little bleak, too, but if you can’t laugh about what sucks, you can’t and won’t last in Ottawa.

“He only has a year on his contract after this,” Luc says, half-switching into hockey mode.

Thomas shrugs. “Yeah, but we're not a winning team.”

“Then take a bridge and come to Columbus,” Luc says. “I mean, whether he stays or goes, take the bridge.”

The problem with hockey is this: they really have no control over where they go. Thomas doesn't trust his team to not trade him, if they think the return is good enough, and Luc has a team that signs long enough contracts and will pay him what he's worth. Thomas could go anywhere UFA, but right now, they see each other twice a year. Thomas would love nothing better than to be able to see Luc every day of every year, but hockey takes; it doesn’t give. Luc has to know that this isn’t something Thomas can promise him, or try to give him.

“Maybe I’ll just go to the Habs,” he muses, out loud. Their defence isn’t getting any younger, and Luc’s apartment is in Montreal.

Luc looks scandalised. “No. Absolutely not. That is a soul-sucking hellhole.”

He’s not wrong, to be fair, but, the opportunity is right there. “Luc, how is Montreal any worse than Ottawa?”

“It’s worse,” Luc says stubbornly. Thomas tries not to laugh but he thinks he's losing that battle.

“I'd see you more often, and I'd be in Montreal,” Thomas tempts.

“It's not worth it; they wouldn't treat you right,” Luc says, his lips brushing against Thomas's cheek. “I'd take you further away if you were being taken care of.”

He's blushing; he can feel it, so he turns and presses a kiss to Luc’s stubbled jaw. “Soft,” he says, knowing that he’s not any better, melting like butter on a hot day.

“You like it,” Luc says, leaning on him. “I missed you; let’s never do this again.”

“I missed you, too,” Thomas says, his throat aching all of a sudden. Just the act of saying it has him close to tears. “I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry,” Luc says, voice rough, arms seizing around Thomas. “I always want you to be good.”

Thomas knows that. Luc is at heart someone who cares about everything, almost too much. He presses a kiss to the corner of Luc’s mouth and feels his lips turn up before he sees the smile. And then he kisses Luc because he can, kisses him again because of the way Luc reacts, enthusiastic, fingers flexing into Thomas’s back, finding no purchase against his suit. Thomas has no such problems, curling a hand around Luc’s nape, kissing him breathless. It never gets old, how responsive Luc is, because Thomas gets Luc flushed and panting, eyes dark and lips swollen.

“I have you looking out for me,” he says, just loud enough for it to reach Luc. “So I’m always good.” It’s cheesy, and he knows that, but it’s also true, and if he can’t be cheesy now, then when can he? It’s not like he’s going to say it to anyone else.

“You don’t play fair,” Luc whines. He doesn’t have any room to talk, not when he looks like a dream come true.

Thomas is about to kiss him again, but there’s a sound in the distance, as if someone’s moving something. Shit. They’re still in the arena. Luc seems to have realised it at the same time as him, sagging against Thomas, still a little pink everywhere.

“Wanna come home?” Luc asks, blinking at Thomas, biting his lip.

Thomas has never actually been to Luc’s Columbus apartment. He knows everything about it, but he’s never seen it except in video or photos. “That sounds perfect.”

Luc smiles, spares a glance down the hallway, and kisses Thomas quick enough that he might have imagined it, reinstating distance between them. “I'm just going to change and get my things. If I give you my keys, can you find my car?”

“You don’t have your keys,” Thomas reminds him.

Luc blinks, his hand drifting to where his keys would be, if he were wearing proper clothes that had pockets. “Can you find my car anyway? You’ll run into less of my team that way.”

“Of course,” Thomas says. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll wait by the entrance.”

“It is so good to see you,” Luc says, hands twitching like he's going to reach for Thomas again.

Thomas almost leans in, but there’s echoes of activity in their part of the arena, and if he lets Luc touch him, they really aren’t going to move any time soon. “I'll stay for dinner,” he promises instead.

He can't promise that he'll stay overnight, but maybe he'll bend the rules. Luc's always worth it.


End file.
